Riding Lessons
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: Blaise finds Ginny's absconded with his broom after a rough day of classes, and offers to brighten up her day. Rated for what else? smut. On a broom.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to have fun with her characters on occasion.

**Author's Note:** A friend of mine suggested smut with brooms, and once I figured out the mechanics of having sex in midair, I couldn't get this little bit of smutty goodness out fast enough. Dedicated to SeraphimeRising, who suggested Blaise when I mentioned wanting to do something with Ginny. Love it? Hate it? Review and tell me why!!

**Riding Lessons  
**by Scribe Teradia

Ginny hefted the broom in her hand and wondered what she was doing. Potions class had been an unmitigated disaster, followed by the letter from Harry during lunch, and she'd known there was no point in even turning up for the study group in the library because she wouldn't actually get anything accomplished.

It still didn't explain why she'd cracked the wards on the Slytherin Quidditch team's equipment shed, nor why she'd taken off for the pitch dressed in her school uniform. Flying was relaxing, sure, and she'd wanted the solitude, but she hadn't realized she was so desperate for it that she'd forget to change out of her skirt. Anyone looking up would be treated to a fabulous view of her knickers, and she wasn't in the mood for more detentions.

She sighed, flopping listlessly into the grass and glaring up at the clouds as she thought about Harry's letter. They'd had a terrible row when he left her behind, and she suspected that was why he kept sending her letters, as if he was somehow obligated to show her that his leaving her behind had been for her protection, though he never included anything of real signifigance in his letters, so she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was supposed to extrapolate from them. It didn't mean that she loved him any less, and it didn't make the ache in her heart any more bearable, though she was starting to get used to it. Contrary to popular belief, she hadn't fallen for Harry because he was popular, or because he'd saved her from Tom Riddle's diary; she'd fallen head over heels the first time she'd seen him at King's Cross, before she even knew who he was, but she suspected that not even Harry really understood that it wasn't just hero-worship. If he had, he might not have been so quick to justify her staying behind.

"That's a terrible waste of a broom."

Ginny sat up with a start, her wand already in hand as she turned, craning her neck to see who had spoken to her. Her hand dropped as she spotted Blaise Zabini, and her face felt warm as she mumbled an apology. She had a passing acquaintance with Blaise, due solely to Professor Slughorn's gatherings the previous year, although they hadn't spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other. There was something very exotic and mysterious about the dark-skinned Slytherin boy, and while she'd never admit it aloud because it would inflate his already overly-large ego, she thought he was quite handsome.

"Hang on," he said, after a moment, bending over and picking the broom up, "that's _my_ broom."

Of course it was, she thought sourly, as she mumbled yet another apology. Ten brooms in the shed, between the players and the alternates, and she had the gross misfortune to pick Zabini's from the lot.

He tilted his head slightly, and her breath caught as his eyes met hers, the insane thought flitting through her mind that if she were this close to Harry he'd be snogging her. For a fraction of a second, she wondered if Blaise might kiss her, and then she realized how absurd the idea was, and shame washed over her even though she really had nothing to be ashamed of. Then his lips curved, his eyes glinting as he gave her a wicked smirk, and he drawled, "Want to go for a ride?"

"I beg your pardon?" It was her best Hermione impression, but somehow it fell flat, because his smirk broadened and he leaned closer. Her heart skipped a beat at his expression: he was _leering_ at her! Frantically, she tried to recall what little she knew of Blaise, but kept coming up short; he really _was_ quite mysterious, the way he kept to himself. He was in Malfoy's circle, but didn't dog the blond-haired boy's heels the way Crabbe and Goyle did, and while she'd heard he was friendly with Pansy Parkinson, well... half the male population in the school was 'friendly' with Pansy, according to rumor.

"I could show you a good time," he replied, and she gaped at him as her suspicions were confirmed: Blaise Zabini was _flirting_ with her!

Leaning back, Ginny braced herself with her hands and tilted her head back to look up at him, smirking in response. "I just bet you could. Too bad I'm not into snakes."

"I'm not into lions, either, but I'd be willing to make an exception for you." He leaned closer, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. "We're all alone out here, Ginevra." The way he said her name was disturbingly erotic, and her hands curled in the grass as he added, "What say you let me take you for a ride?"

The innuendo was clear, but she couldn't bring herself to let him know that she'd caught on, or that she wanted to give in. "And if I refuse?" she asked, her voice shaky with nerves. She knew she shouldn't be egging him on, shouldn't be playing his game, knew she should get up and go back inside, but she was tired of sitting around and doing nothing, and it wasn't as if she'd be cheating on Harry; his last letter had reminded her all too painfully that they weren't together any more.

"Why would you?" he countered. He let the broom fall to the ground and leaned in to brush his lips across her still-warm cheek. "You know you want me, Ginevra. I've seen the way you look at me, seen the way you watch me, when you thought I wasn't paying attention. Did you really think I didn't notice?"

She had, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught out, her brain trying frantically to come up with a plausible excuse that was getting more difficult by the second. "I--"

That was as far as she got, because a moment later his lips met hers, and all thought of resistance disppeared. She whimpered faintly, her elbows wobbling, and then her eyes went wide as she toppled backward, lying in the grass again. He chuckled, and the sound made the little hairs on her arms stand on end; she knew for sure she was in trouble, but she couldn't decide if it was the bad kind of trouble. His lips connected with the side of her neck, and she decided she didn't care, bringing her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair, reveling in the silky texture of it. Never mind that they were in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, in full view of anyone who might happen by.

Blaise kissed his way down her neck, latching on and sucking when he got to the spot just above her collar, and she knew there would be a mark when he was finished. His fingers undid the buttons of her shirt, slowly, and his mouth travelled downward, licking and nibbling at the exposed skin. He left her bra in place, mouthing her breasts through the fabric, and she arched her back, silently begging him for more. his hands moved lower, hiking her skirt up and then sliding beneath it, and she gasped as he tore away her knickers, leaving her exposed to the open air. She wasn't exposed for long, though, and a moment later her hips rose as his tongue swiped across her most private parts, igniting the spark of heat within her.

It wasn't Ginny's first sexual experience, by a long shot (there'd been Michael, who'd first awkwardly groped her chest back in fifth year, then Dean, who'd introduced her to the fine art of mutual masturbation and oral sex, and then the incredibly awkward first time of going 'all the way' with Harry over the summer at the Burrow, after his harrowing escape from his aunt and uncle's house), but Blaise made every other boy she'd even looked at twice pale in comparison. He seemed to know every single one of her most sensitive spots, cupping her backside with one hand to hold her hips in place while the fingers of the other hand penetrated deeper than his tongue could manage, driving her over the edge of bliss and beyond until she thought she might literally explode. The orgasm that finally rocked her had her seeing stars, her ears ringing from the blood pounding through her veins, and he lifted his head and smirked down at her. "Funny, I'd always figured you for a screamer, Gin."

The familiar way he said her name did nothing whatsoever for her self-control, and she shifted to prop herself up on her elbows, her lips curving in a wicked grin. "About that ride..?"

His eyes gleamed, and he got to his feet; she had just enough time to register the rather sizable trouser-tent before he'd reached down to haul her up by her arm, his broom in his other hand. "So you _do_ want me, then."

"Shut up, Blaise," she commanded, her hand curling around his tie and yanking him down until he was low enough for her to press her lips to his, kissing him roughly. He let go of her arm to thread his fingers through her hair, his tongue sliding against hers, and he groaned when she nipped at it. "I like you better when you don't talk," she panted, her lips moving against his, her fingers tugging at his tie until she had it undone, though she left it hang 'round his neck while she worked on his shirt buttons. "_Can_ one have sex on a broom?" she thought to ask, being rather fuzzy on the mechanics of such a thing. Flying could be a tricky business even under the best of conditions, the concept of shagging while flying - while undeniably thrilling - was a bit beyond her.

"Takes talent, but you're in good hands," he replied, groaning as her lips made their way down his chest, latching onto a nipple and then tugging with her teeth. "Trick is to be good and ready before starting," he added, watching as her hands finished with his shirt buttons and toyed with the button on his trousers.

"Readiness doesn't seem to be an issue," she purred, skipping the button and moving straight to the zipper, then reaching boldly through the layers of fabric to set him free. He was bigger than she expected, and her eyes widened a bit, but she sank to her knees and gave an experimental lick and was rewarded with a low moan and the sound of the broom falling to the ground again as he wound both hands into her hair.

The first time she'd seen Dean undressed, she'd nearly keeled over from shock, but it hadn't taken her long to discover what she could do to him with the right combination of lips and tongue and fingers. When she'd demonstrated those same talents to Harry, she'd been showered with praise and rewarded with five minutes of what turned out to be rather unsatisfactory first-time sex. She was really hoping that Blaise would prove better, as her head bobbed along his length, her skillful fingers making up for what her mouth couldn't reach. That he managed to remain standing the whole time was a promising sign, and he stopped her before she could bring him release, his hands leaving her hair to catch her under her arms and draw her back up, then sliding down to cup her backside and lift her further.

Ginny gasped as he tugged her skirt up and out of the way, and she realized what he intended, wrapping her legs around his waist. He shifted against her, and she thought she might go mad if he drew things out much longer; another shift, and then a thrust, and she pressed her face against his shoulder to muffle her cry of surprise as he filled her. Then the wood of the broomstick met her bare arse, and she had a half-second to wonder if this sort of activity would lead to splinters in her bum before the takeoff drove him further inside of her. If she'd been able to think at all coherently, she might have been thankful that nobody was around, as the broom rose and fell in rhythmic, choppy motions, but she was far too busy hanging on and enjoying herself to care (and later she'd be terrifically impressed that he was able to manage the feat at all, because she never would have). She picked up the rhythm quickly, and rocked in time with it, sliding herself back and forth along his length until it became too much for her, at which point she shuddered and leaned into him, gasping his name against his neck. They all but fell back to the ground, and the broomstick dug into her back as he finally let go of that impressive self-control, his hands catching her ankles to lift and spread her legs wider, angling her hips as he pounded into her so hard she had trouble breathing until he finally shuddered and croaked her name, his voice gone hoarse from the effort of keeping quiet so as not to draw undue attention.

Shame flooded through her, after it was over, and she tried to get out from under him, only to be surprised when he tightened his grip on her. "I'm not letting go of you now I've finally got you, Gin," he growled, lifting his head and claiming her mouth with a searing kiss. She wriggled beneath him, gasping at the ripple of pleasure that made its way upward from where they were still joined, and he growled into her mouth. "Saucy little lion."

How he managed to get to his feet, pulling her with him without breaking that connection, Ginny had no idea, but she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, still reeling from their previous coupling. He carried her to the equipment shed, where he tossed the broom aside and finally, reluctantly set her down, only to press her up against the door and undress her slowly, taking his time exploring her with his hands and mouth until her breathing was ragged and her knees were weak. Only then did he let her return the favor, and time lost all meaning as she focused on the task of breaking through his rigid self-control all over again. They shagged desperately against the door, frantically, and before she could come down from that high he'd laid her down on the floor and started a third round, drawing it out longer than the previous two until he rolled over and gave her control; she rode him until neither of them was capable of moving any more than was required to breathe.

In the end, she was the one to walk away from him, peeling her body from his and pulling on her clothes while he watched her from the floor, his dark eyes intent and his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and she shook her head, bending over to touch his lips with her finger. "Shut up, Blaise." A glance at her watch (a gift from Hermione last Christmas) told her it was well-past dinner and nearing curfew, and she knew her friends would be worried. Opening the door, she looked back at the young man still lying on the floor, her lips curving into a smile. "Thanks for the ride, Zabini. It was... educational." Turning her back on him, she headed back to the school, humming her favorite Wyrd Sisters song off-key and thinking that maybe the year wouldn't be so bad after all.

**The End**


End file.
